


Testing, testing, one-two-three

by Havokftw



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Best Friends, Bottom Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Coitus Interruptus, Coupzi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Jicheol, M/M, Overhearing Sex, Pining, Secret Relationship, Sexual Frustration, Slow Build, Top Seungcheol, as canon as I'm likely to get, backstage smut, but hey, probably inaccurate detail wise, woocoup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: They’ve been doing this—thing, for a little over two years now.They have an arrangement of sorts: they’re best friends who work well together, live together, shop together and get drunk together. They always have each other’s backs and—oh yeah—occasionally they fuck.It doesn’t sound overly romantic, probably because it’s not.





	Testing, testing, one-two-three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssvteen (Knaija)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knaija/gifts).



> I hope I filled the request.....

_Please come over so you can fuck me_  is about as far from a typical Jihoon text message as one can be.

Seungcheol reads it, reads it again, then double-checks the sender. Still Jihoon.

Seungcheol is on a treadmill at the time. He narrowly escapes skidding off and smashing himself into a pulp against the wall behind him.

Which, when he thinks about it, is Jihoon's fault in more ways than one. (Yeah, idols need to stay in shape but now you could say he has _personal_ reasons to look good shirtless.)

"Excuse me?" he demands, once he's collected himself enough to totter out of the work-out room and call Jihoon.

"You heard me, and bring me my phone charger." says Jihoon, and hangs up.

What the hell?

Does Jihoon _actually_ think he’s going to drop _everything_ to go have sex with him in his studio?

_Seriously?_

“Hyung? Where you going?” Mingyu calls out as Seungcheol sprints towards the exit.

* * *

 

Seungcheol bursts into the studio in record time, sweating beneath his hoodie after his sprint.

“Daddy’s here.” He announces, a bit grander than he should.

Jihoon’s eyes narrow dangerously. “What did I tell you about calling yourself that?”

"Not to ever do it again!" Seungcheol answers brightly, and catches Jihoon up against the door the instant it closes.

“Precisely. Did you bring me my charger like I asked?” Jihoon says, sharply, haltingly.

Seungcheol pouts. It’s not the reaction he was expecting for his efforts. He has learned to appreciate a good poker face, even though Jihoon’s is particularly maddening.

“Uhm—Yeah.” He hesitates, pulling the cord out and setting the charger on Jihoon’s desk.

Jihoon slips out from his hold and walks around him, sliding into his swivel chair to plug his charger in.

“That was close, I was on 7% charge!” He laughs, and then—turns back to his computer as if Seungcheol isn’t there at all and Seungcheol has the odd sensation of someone who’s just been dismissed.

“I…uh…I got your text,” Seungcheol blurts out, as Jihoon seems ready to turn back to his work and ignore him. “ _’Please come over so you can fuck me’_ —is more than a _little_ suggestive. There’s no way I was misinterpreting that. So—are we gonna—?”

“Hmm?” Jihoon flicks a glance over his monitor and frowns. “Oh—that.” He tips his head up enough to watch Seungcheol through his hair, eyes bright with amusement, “Yeah— _about that_ —that was just to get you to bring my charger over. You can go now.” He says. The careless and confident authority makes Seungcheol want to throw him down onto the desk and fuck him against it until the CTRL, ALT, DEL keys are imprinted on his ass.

"So, you— _used_ me?" Seungcheol says, and flutters his lashes just to see Jihoon sigh.

“Well—I _really_ needed my charger. I needed you to get here quickly, and I know nothing will get you up off your ass faster,” Jihoon counters, though his lips turn up at the corners, fingers still clicking away on the keyboard of his computer.

Seungcheol almost trips in his haste to round the desk, “That’s not fair. I would have come anyway. And you could have asked somebody else to bring it over. Not emotionally—and physically blackmail me.” He says, trying his best to sound like he’s not sulking. He’s not.

That earns him a laugh, and Jihoon slowly rising from his chair. “Blackmail is such a dirty word Cheol. It’s more like— _bribery_.”

Seungcheol frowns. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but bribery suggests I get something out of it. I haven’t—“ The rest of Seungcheol’s words are muffled against Jihoon’s lips.

Seungcheol just takes shameless advantage of the moment, and Jihoon's mouth. He kisses him back with force, tongue and teeth. His hands end up in Jihoon's hair and immediately try their best to wreck it all to hell.

Jihoon hums a quiet sound of approval, and that alone is enough to make Seungcheol's eager heart race. His pulse beats even faster when Jihoon flattens himself against his front, slips his arms around Seungcheol’s neck and tilts his head up to permit Seungcheol deeper.

“I missed you.” Seungcheol breathes once Jihoon pulls back to grin at him.

“Take your pants off.” Jihoon answers.

“You always say the most romantic things to me, Hoonie.” Seungcheol purrs, nuzzling under Jihoon’s jaw, ignoring his soft and slightly frustrated grunt. “You always make me feel all warm and fluttery inside.”

“We have 30 minutes max—keep your sentimental bullshit to a minimum please.” Jihoon warns him, but he’s smiling, and backpedalling towards the couch.

Seungcheol closes the distance between them, with three quick steps, planning to pin Jihoon to the couch and kiss him again; but Jihoon sees him coming, grabs the front of his shirt, hooking a heel behind Seungcheol’s leg and pulling him off-balance so that Seungcheol lands with a thud on the couch.

“Careful,” Seungcheol huffs, amused and wishing he didn’t enjoy it so much when Jihoon manhandles him, “you’ll damage the goods.”

"Seriously, did you hear what I said? We have less than thirty minutes."

Jihoon gives Seungcheol a bossy shove back against the couch before moving to straddle his hips. He helps unzip his hoodie, helps peel the t-shirt from Seungcheol's damp skin, drags his own over his head before following the shove with a kiss just as bossy.

He takes Seungcheol’s lower lip between his teeth, taunting, and Seungcheol can feel the smile against his skin when Jihoon's hands slide up and along his arms and neck, up into sweat damp hair. Seungcheol also feels the unmistakable evidence that Jihoon is every bit as into this as he is, and he rocks his hips up to offer easy, eager friction.

He slips his tongue into his mouth until Jihoon's making harsh, needy, magnificently un-Jihoonish sounds, and Seungcheol never thought that would become such an all-consuming hobby of his but he's not complaining about it either.

Jihoon’s knee slides up between his legs in response. For a moment, Seungcheol forgets to breathe.

“Fucking hell, Hoonie...”

Jihoon grins and draws a shuddery breath. “Can I ride you?”

Before Seungcheol can answer, there's a loud knock at the door, immediately followed by someone jiggling the doorknob. "Jihoon?" Jun’s voice calls from the other side.

Jihoon is out of his lap and putting himself back together in a flash, leaving Seungcheol in a very undignified and partially undressed heap on the couch.

“Don’t just lie there. Get dressed.” Jihoon hisses, looking unfairly composed considering. 

Seungcheol glances around the room, frantically looking for an escape route—before he realises there’s no reason for him _not_ to be here in Jihoon’s studio. Even if the door is locked—and he’s sporting a boner.

Yeah, there’s _nothing_ suspicious or unreasonable about that _at all_. He’s grateful to be wearing loose jogging bottoms.

He has a spare few second to make himself look somewhat presentable before Jihoon is pulling the door open.

Jun’s face is buried in a book, and he looks up as he steps into the room stops in his tracks. “Uh… is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine,” Jihoon hurriedly assures even as Seungcheol visibly deflates, arms folding in on himself. “Seungcheol was just, ah… showing me… something.”

Jun eyes them with clear scepticism. “Right. Okay.” He dismisses the odd tension in the room. “I know I’m early, but Soonyoung wants us to bump up our practice schedule for a new routine. He said you wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon sits back in his chair, keeping his hands loose on his knees. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine—Cheol’s leaving anyway.”

“I am?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon swivels in his chair and looks over at him. “Yeah _Seungcheol_. I think I’ve got the hang of this now, thanks for coming over to show me.”

“But-“ Seungcheol starts to speak again, and Jihoon rushes to continue.

“See you back at the dorm, Hyung.”

Seungcheol keeps his mouth shut and leaves. Not without a backward glance or three, though.

On the premature walk of shame back to the dorm Seungcheol promises himself that the next time Jihoon extends the ‘ _subtle’_ , deflectable invitation, he’ll refuse.

That principle of determination at least makes him feel better, even if he knows it’s just a lot of hot air. Because who doesn’t accept an invitation to fuck a gorgeous, flexible, extremely willing guy through the wall? He’d be stupid not to.

But still. Principles.

* * *

 

They’ve been doing this— _thing,_ for a little over two years now.

They have an arrangement of sorts: they’re best friends who work well together, live together, shop together and get drunk together. They always have each other’s backs and— _oh yeah_ —occasionally they fuck.

It doesn’t _sound_ overly romantic, probably because it’s not. Despite Seungcheol’s attempts at building something between them, Jihoon’s always maintained a stubborn level of detachment about the whole thing.

And that’s all fine, Seungcheol thinks. Fine and well as far as it goes. But doesn’t it get a bit old, after a while? It’s a kind of selfishness, not so much a withholding as an indifference.

Jihoon doesn’t hide that he wants it fast and rough, but he also doesn’t care whether Seungcheol is all right with that. Maybe he takes it as a given that he is, since Seungcheol keeps coming back to fuck him.

Seungcheol, who has _never_ been able to master detachment when Jihoon (and only Jihoon) is concerned, tries to convince himself that it's good enough, that he'll take what he can get and usually that works for him.

Seungcheol _is_ very good at denial.

He finds it harder to pretend when Jihoon rolls his eyes at a smallest hint of sentimentality, stiffens up at the barest touch in public, and jokingly tells everyone he’s not big on skinship—except when he’s petting Vernon’s hair or koala hugging the life out of everyone else!

It kinda sucks that Jihoon  _does_  do skinship, just not with Seungcheol. Perhaps that way—danger lies?

It doesn't stop him from loving Jihoon though. Seungcheol had accepted a long time ago that nothing would.

Besides, he’s not completely devoid of attention. He knows Jihoon doesn’t let anyone else do to him what Seungcheol does to him in private. And they really need to keep it below board for the sake of their careers.

It’s bad enough that Soonyoung had to find out the way he did; walking into the practice room late one night while they were busy _‘performing’._

Surprise nudity in the workplace just makes everybody awkward.

 _“Oh—my—god.”_ Soonyoung had gasped.

 _“We’re practicing.”_ Seungcheol said. Because that was literally the first thing that came into his head, and it’s hard to string excuses together when your dick is hitting the back of your best friends throat.

_“That’s no choreography of mine!”_

Much to their relief, Soonyoung was pretty okay about it! Supportive in fact.

He even cracked a few amazingly awkward jokes and promised to keep their secret, while _they_ tried really hard not to make it obvious in front of everyone else.

And it’s tough, not breaching that line with the one person you _really_ want to breach it with. Seungcheol has to reign in a lot of impulses around Jihoon and he thinks he’s doing a damn good job of it too, and yet, Soonyoung sometimes gets this haunted look on his face, like he thinks they might throw themselves at each other at any moment!

Seungcheol’s thought about it, a couple of times, he'd thought about sidling up to Jihoon and doing  _something_ , but he has this idea that it will end in either humiliating rejection, or terrible mockery.

Everyone still refers to his latest attempt at non-consensual hugging with Jihoon as— _‘the day Seungcheol almost died’._

So, yes, mostly the trying not to be obvious about it, involves standing at least five feet away from each other at all times.

But still, Seungcheol always has a nagging feeling that people can look at them and tell – can see that he looks at Jihoon too long, that Jihoon’s self-imposed distance is more than what it might seem.

* * *

 

Another opportunity presents itself sooner than he expects.

A handful of them are setting up for a V-Live broadcast in one of the recreation rooms.

Seungcheol may appear to be on his phone, but really he’s glancing across to the other corner of the room, where Jihoon and Mingyu are talking.

Jihoon keeps glancing towards him too, usually when he turns back to his phone. When their eyes _finally_ meet, Jihoon gives a small but wicked smile, and arches his left eyebrow, and Seungcheol can feel his own smile tugging across his face in response.

It’s been a while.

Understandable, with their hectic schedule and an upcoming tour and Seungcheol finds himself wondering about the possibilities, mind wandering places he damn well knows he shouldn't let it go in a room full of their bandmates.

They're lacking the necessary privacy and they’re about to start the V-live, and it doesn't matter that Jihoon's frequent glances are distracting as hell and make his blood hum. There's no getting around the fact that, with at least another eleven pairs of eyes on them, it's a _Very Bad Idea._

Stay. In. Your. Lane.

Jihoon gets up, carrying his empty coke can to the kitchen, and it’s as good a chance as any for Seungcheol to trail after him.

 _Moths, flame. Magnetism_ , Seungcheol thinks distractedly.

The doors swings shut behind him and Seungcheol catches Jihoon just as he turns around, pinning him up against the edge of the counter with his body, caging him with his arms.

Jihoon gives him his much-used expression of disbelief. “I knew you would follow me in here and I was hoping I’d be wrong, because you can’t be this stupid, Cheol.”

Seungcheol blinks at him. “But—you were giving me the _look_.”

“What _look_?”

“The sex me now look. I saw it.”

“I don’t _have_ a sex me now look.” Jihoon laughs, bracing a hand on the edge of the counter, as if he’s planning on boosting himself up onto it. Seungcheol can’t help but think the kitchen counter is perhaps the one place they  _haven’t_  defiled yet.

“Sure you do—it looks like this.” Seungcheol says, doing his best impression of Jihoon’s smouldering sexy face.

“That just looks constipated.” He's told, with not a touch of enthusiasm. 

“No, it was definitely a smouldering sex me up look.” Seungcheol murmurs, rubbing the tip of his nose against Jihoon’s cheek is a shameless petition for a kiss; Jihoon doesn’t give those up easily, but he surrenders one now, languid and open-mouthed, lips sliding and catching.

His one hand stays braced on the counter, the other hanging limp by his side, but Seungcheol isn’t so restrained. He settles his hands on Jihoon’s hips, digs his fingers in a little...

“Not a chance,” Jihoon steps sideways, breaking Seungcheol hold like it’s nothing. “The others are next door and we’re about to record the V-Live. Fuck—Cheol, show some professionalism.” He hisses.

Seungcheol deflates a little.

“Cheol,” Jihoon pauses in the kitchen doorway and looks back over his shoulder. “We have a day off tomorrow. I don’t know what you’ve got planned—but I’m going to spend it napping. Just FYI.”

Seungcheol grins, warm with a strange relief.

* * *

 

Seungcheol waits, positive that Jihoon will knock any minute. He's already stripped down to his boxers and he’s restless. He's already half hard, and he's going to give Jihoon only fifteen more minutes before he goes outside and drags him in here.

He hears footsteps before the knock comes and is already reaching for the handle. Jihoon steps past him with a smirk.

"Are those _my_ boxers Seungcheol?" he says after a lengthy pause, during which his eyes fall and rise like Seungcheol’s body has become unaccountably sticky and starts working on his shirt buttons.

Seungcheol crowds up against him, mouthing at the back of his neck, wrapping his hands around Jihoon's waist and grinding a little against his ass.

"Yeah. Since you’re so hard to get a hold of—I like little reminders of you as I go about my day," he offers, squeezing Jihoon's ass in reprimand.

"Is that why you steal Mingyu’s boxers too?" Jihoon teases, but his voice is already a little breathless as he presses back against Seungcheol's fully hard cock.

Seungcheol smirks and doesn't take the bait, he steps back and laughs when Jihoon isn't quick enough to smother his whimper at the loss. Seungcheol smacks Jihoon's ass a little too hard and moves over to the bed.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to get butt naked and join me on my bunk." Seungcheol slips his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them off, enjoying the glazed look in Jihoon's eyes.

He kicks his boxers off to the side and crosses his arms across his chest, knowing it shows off his biceps and abs to best effect. He knows it's worked when Jihoon growls and busies himself with all of his slippery buttons, toeing his shoes off at the same time.

He doesn't bother folding his clothes away neatly, just allows them to fall to the floor. To a normal person, Jihoon looked mostly unaffected, but Seungcheol knows that this is Jihoon's version of hopping around with one shoe on and tripping out of your pants.

Seungcheol is stunned when Jihoon finishes stripping, then takes a flying leap and tackles him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulders. He stumbles and catches his balance, hands gripping Jihoon’s ass, his fingers slipping in between his cheeks and their cocks grinding together, slipping stickily through each other's precome.

Seungcheol turns them around and drops to the bed, pressing Jihoon into the too fluffy comforter and knocking a few excessive pillows off as they bounce. They continue to kiss and rut against each other, the desperation tapering off until it's just kissing, sloppy and familiar.

“Cheol—C’mon.” Jihoon pants.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss to pepper more down the column of Jihoon’s throat, down his chest and over his ribs.

He adores Jihoon’s stomach, soft and tight, pale and smooth with a fine dusting of hair in a tantalizing trail below his tiny belly button. Seungcheol rubs his nose against it, stirs the hair with the steady pant of his breathing, and presses his lips against the growing swell of his cock. Jihoon’s fingers push through Seungcheol’s hair and a palm rubs the back of his neck as Jihoon murmurs, “Yeah – c’mon.”

Sex with Jihoon never ceases to be both a challenge and a joy, like unwrapping a particularly beautiful, engaging, and responsive gift; though Seungcheol would prefer if there wasn’t a fist in his hair trying to spur him on, and if Jihoon didn’t take such a quiet and perverse joy in making him work for all of his rewards.

Jihoon is most sensitive on the insides of his thighs, and he makes the most delightful noises when Seungcheol rubs his cheeks there, rasping the soft skin with his stubble. He also digs his heels into Seungcheol’s back and curses him for a tease, but that’s to be expected.

“Is this going to be an all-day thing?” Jihoon demands, looking peevish and lovely, with his arms thrown up above his head and his freshly dyed blonde hair in a tousle. He looks thoroughly debauched already, and Seungcheol hasn’t graced his straining cock with more than a soft kiss.

“It could be, if I wanted it,” Seungcheol would revel in the slow, determined exploration of Jihoon’s body, if given the chance; leave him wet and trembling, flushed from head to toe. Seungcheol would cover him in delicate bite marks and taste every inch of skin he could find. For the moment, he settles for licking his way into Jihoon’s mouth and running his fingers along Jihoon’s ribs.

“Hnn—Cheol no. S’not fair. Don’t have time.” Jihoon whines.

"How do you want it?" Seungcheol hovers over Jihoon, his hands planted beside his shoulders, looking down on him.

"Anything, just—touch me." Jihoon punctuates it with a pointed roll of his hips, his long fingers pressed hard into Seungcheol’s hips.

The bottle of lubricant is, by necessity, near at hand – housed permanently on the bedside table next to the bunk – and Jihoon’s eyes go heavy-lidded when Seungcheol grabs it, tongue sliding hungrily over his lower lip, mouth slack and eager as he watches Seungcheol smear a mess of it on his fingers.

Seungcheol rubs his shining fingers against the tender skin behind Jihoon’s balls and purrs, “Say please, Hoonie.”

“Fuck off,” Jihoon hisses, though he spreads his legs wider and does his damnedest to rock down towards Seungcheol’s hand. “I’m not going to beg.”

Then, voices echo down the corridor.

“Oh shit—they’re back,” Jihoon hisses, clamping his legs shut and scooting back on the bed until his shoulders hit the headboard.

“Shit, Shit, Shit!” Seungcheol whispers, wiping the lube on his boxers and jumping up. “Get dressed—I’ll distract them!” He wheezes out, half helpful and half panic.

Seungcheol stubs his toe and bangs his elbow in the process of yanking on his clothes. He swears beneath his breath, mind whirling as Jihoon rolls off the mattress and crosses the room, looking around for something—probably his jeans.

He doesn't have time to pause and consult with him because he runs from the room to meet the others halfway down the hallway, before anyone barges in and sees anything too incriminating.

“HEY GUYS!” He yells, pulling Jeonghan, Mingyu and Seungkwan into what would appear to be an unnecessary, overly affectionate hug. Anything to keep them in the hallway just that bit longer.

Nobody seems phased by the strangeness of the hug, which makes Seungcheol wonder if he always doles out unnecessary hugs at random times and why nobody seems to question it.

“I missed you guys.” Seungcheol says, in case the enthusiastic hugging isn't enough.

“We’ve only been gone half an hour.” Jeonghan mumbles, face squished into his shoulder.

“Yeah—but it _feels_ longer for me.” He says, reeling Seungkwan back into the group embrace as he tries to escape.

“I thought you guys were going to the mall?” Seungcheol asks finally, when he’s released everyone and is following them anxiously down the corridor.

“We were—but we just came back because Mingyu forgot his wallet.” Seungkwan explains as they enter the shared dorm room.

Jihoon’s dressed again, sprawled carefully on his own bed, blanket laid loosely over his waist. Seungcheol wonders if he had enough time to get his pants back on. He’s trying to look relaxed, but his hair is all over the place and the colour is still high in his cheekbones – shagged out and suspicious is a surprisingly good look on him.

Mingyu stalks over to the bedside cabinet to search for his wallet and Seungcheol’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when he catches sight of the lube still sitting on display.

“GROUP HUG!” Seungcheol announces distractedly, as he reels them into yet another embrace.

There’s a slight grumble of protest, but seriously? Nobody questions his random and unnecessary hugging? It’s not like he does it all the time!

He tries to convey to Jihoon in sign language about the lube whilst hugging the others in distraction. Jihoon manages to be incredibly quick on the uptake and reaches for it, slipping it under his pillow.

Exhausting of him, Mingyu extracts himself forcefully from the embrace and stalks back over to the cabinet, pulling the drawer open. “Got—it.” He cheers, waving his wallet in view.

Seungcheol lets out a controlled sigh of relief as they begin to filter out, which lodges in his throat as Jeonghan starts scaling the ladder to his bunk.

“Hannie—aren’t you coming?” Seungkwan calls from the door.

“No—go without me. I’ve changed my mind.” He waves them off, swinging his legs up on the bunk.

_Dammit._

“You should go Hannie.” Seungcheol says, and he has to restrain himself from sounding too enthusiastic about the idea. “It’s important to get outside. Explore! Get some fresh air!”

Jeonghan manages a dubious sideways squint, in response to that. “Why don’t _you_ get some fresh air?”

“Uhh—I had fresh air yesterday. Too much fresh air is— _selfish_?” Seungcheol says awkwardly. He coughs, clears his throat and turns his head to find Jihoon giving him the disdainful slow blink.

‘ _What_?’ he mouths at him, but Jihoon just turns to face the wall.

“What are you guys doing for your day off?” Jeonghan asks, when he’s settled in his bunk.

Seungcheol tries for the world's most nonchalant shrug. He suspects he looks like he's trying to do a vertical take-off. “Oh—nothing. Just—catching up on some sleep.”

“Sleep? That sounds like a good idea.” Jeonghan drawls lazily, then promptly begins to snore.

Seungcheol gives it ten minutes before he’s certain Jeonghan is asleep, and slips out of his bed.

They still have some time. The practice room is empty, the rec room has a lot of couches they haven’t defiled yet. There are nine other beds they could get busy on if they just…

Except when he pads over to Jihoon’s bunk—he finds him sound asleep.

* * *

 

When they fell together it’s not like it was a carefully seduced affair, nor was it like a quick-hot-hungry fling.

It happened like this:

Seungcheol reels Jihoon into a back hug, like he does maybe five or six times every time he gets bored working in the studio, and when Jihoon glares at him, Seungcheol ducks his face into Jihoon’s neck and blows a perfunctory raspberry over the pulse on his throat.

Jihoon chokes inelegantly, mouth parted in surprise. 

Which is when Seungcheol realizes he should probably let him go. He doesn't. He tries—honestly he does—but he can't figure out how to loosen his arms so Jihoon can slide away. Something tight and stubborn has lodged in his chest, and suddenly the last thing he wants to do is stop touching Jihoon.

"Seungcheol," Jihoon says in a quiet, almost confused voice. It's not exactly agreement, it’s not exactly disapproval. Seungcheol's not sure  _what_  it is. But Jihoon isn't trying to shove free of his grasp.

He seems to be waiting, curious to see what Seungcheol will do. And Seungcheol doesn't mean to lean closer. He doesn't mean to tighten his arms around Jihoon’s waist. He  _definitely_  doesn't mean to press a kiss to the side of his neck and hold it there, to breathe against the ivory soft skin for a moment.

But somehow, all those things happen anyway and Jihoon goes liquid immediately in his arms, suddenly fantastically pliant, moaning softly and shifting his head so Seungcheol’s lips slide down the column of his throat in little sipping kisses.

_“Seungcheol.”_

They both freeze.

When Seungcheol pulls away, it’s as if nothing happened.

No, that’s not quite right. It’s not as if _nothing_ happened. It’s as if they’d been doing that for _years_.

Perhaps not the neck kissing part—but definitely the gravitating into each other’s personal space inappropriately part, and Seungcheol feels like an idiot not to have noticed how easily he could have given those little kisses before.

The rest of the day in the studio is understandably awkward; both of them turning to look at each other every few seconds with twin expressions of _‘Did we just?—Are we gonna talk about this—I guess not.’_

They have sex for the first time about a week later. Seungcheol follows Jihoon to the studio after they share several bottles of Soju.

Jihoon tries to teach him how to play the guitar for the umpteenth time, and they order take out at one o’clock in the morning and settle in on the studios wide, overstuffed couch to watch a movie.

Seungcheol is pretty sure Jihoon would commit seppuku before using the word 'cuddle', but that's what they do through the whole movie. They wind close and only half watch the screen, and Seungcheol pretends his heart isn't beating a thousand times a minute as Jihoon rests his head on his shoulder.

Seungcheol makes his move when Jihoon gets up to leave.

He grabs him by the hand, pulls him back down and kisses him against the couch, pinning him like he hasn’t before. He takes Jihoon's mouth like he’s entitled to it, moaning in relief when Jihoon's lips part at the first demanding press of his tongue.

By the time they break apart, Seungcheol’s winded, breathing hard, abruptly terrified to open his eyes. He doesn't know what expression to expect on Jihoon's face.

Usually when Jihoon looks at him, it’s coolly, calmly, and frequently with a narrow gaze. When Seungcheol opens his eyes, he finds Jihoon watching him with startling intensity. Jihoon's mouth is barely open, his lips swollen from the strength in Seungcheol’s kiss.

Seungcheol is still balanced above him, their chests touching as they breathe. He expects to get punched, slapped, scolded, something.

He holds his breath.

"What was that for?" Jihoon asks.

"Hell if I know," Seungcheol admits. There's no point trying to be suave. Jihoon knows him better than most.

"How long have you been thinking about doing that?" Jihoon's eyes are piercing now, drilling into his.

Seungcheol doesn't even consider lying. He won't lie to Jihoon. Which means he can't pretend it was an accident; it didn't just _mysteriously_  happen. He won't deny his actions when he  _has_  been thinking about it.

"A while," he breathes.

It's a cagey answer, but it’s preferable to the more honest alternative: ' _Do you remember our pre-debut days? Those paper kissing games don’t plan themselves!_ ' That's not really a confession to set the right mood.

Jihoon just nods, either satisfied or simply unwilling to press for more. "So, you—planning to do it again?" he asks with a flash of dimples.

Seungcheol grins as relief expands behind his ribs. He can't be mistaking the subtle tease in Jihoon's voice.

It's the next best thing to a written invitation, and Seungcheol doesn't need to be asked twice.

He’s moans in approval when Jihoon’s hand moves out of his grip to his hair, taking hold of it and somewhat clumsily directing Seungcheol’s mouth to his own.

He breaks off in surprise when trembling fingers begin undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Sorry." Jihoon pauses, flushing across the bridge of his nose. "Too fast?"

"Fuck no."

Jihoon lets Seungcheol strip him down, spread him across the couch.

For a moment Seungcheol considers what he’s about to do, the utter insanity of it, and then does it anyway.

The thing about sleeping with your best friend is, it's not a genie you can put back in the bottle. There are thoughts you can't unrealize, memories you can't just decide to un-experience, knowledge you can't simply unlearn.

Seungcheol does things to Jihoon he can’t remember ever wanting to do with anyone else before. It isn’t the dirty things he wants that surprise him.

It’s the way he likes watching Jihoon’s lips part in a silent moan as Seungcheol slides into him for the first time.

It’s the way he likes kissing Jihoon’s wrists and his eyelids and, gently, the hollow of Jihoon’s throat.

It’s the way they both try and struggle to keep their eyes open, just so they can be sure it’s real.

It’s the way their fingers intertwine as they’re reaching the end.

It’s the way Jihoon doesn’t even hesitate to nod agreement when Seungcheol asks his permission to finish inside him.

He wants all those little things that Jihoon’s is reluctant to cede.

* * *

 

The next few weeks fall into a certain discernible pattern, although it’s not Seungcheol's intention.

Each time they try and hook up, they’re interrupted somehow and Seungcheol is starting to think there can’t be enough patience in the world to keep him sane as he waits for the Universe to get its shit together and give him a break.

When he finally _does_ manage to isolate Jihoon for an hour or so, he can’t get in on the ground-level of Jihoon’s frankly frustrating work-ethic.

He would be a terrible liar if he said he hadn’t imagined, many, many times, exactly what might happen when he gets Jihoon alone again. However, Jihoon pointing to the exit of the practice room, and saying, politely, “I would like to practice alone please, Hyung.” is not among the scenarios.

“Jihoonie?” Seungcheol says, slightly bewildered at being denied.

He leans forward to try and kiss Jihoon once more, slowly, unsettled and feeling like Jihoon is a skittish kitten. Jihoon immediately tenses and glares. Seungcheol tries not to look crushed as he leans away again.

“Hyung, _go_! I’m practicing the choreo for my solo. I don’t want anyone here.” Jihoon replies.

Seungcheol tries not to flinch; it’s been a long time since Jihoon spoke to him in the honorary.

He tries to think of how he would handle this situation if Jihoon weren’t calmly kicking his heart.

Probably, he’d laugh a bit. Or stick his tongue out. It’s basically his default setting.

He can’t seem to do it though. He’s angrier than he can ever remember being. He hasn’t even looked at another person for two fucking years out of some apparently misguided  _fidelity_  and Jihoon is talking to him like he’s a stranger. Or worse—an older annoying brother.

He feels his ears turning red, frustration lodging in his throat. He coughs to clear it. “So, you’re keeping it a surprise. From everyone? Even Soonyoung says he hasn’t seen your choreo.”

“Yes. It’s a surprise.”  Jihoon rolls his shoulders back, then shakes out his arms before seeming to settle his muscles more comfortably beneath his shirt. “Now, do you mind.”

Seungcheol flares his nostrils. “Fine—I’ll wait outside.”

“You might as well just go back to the dorm.” Jihoon adds quickly as Seungcheol turns to leave. “After I finish here, I’m meeting Bumzu to go over some stuff—also for my solo. I don’t know how long it will take—so there’s really no point in you hanging around.” He offers with a shrug.

Seungcheol sighs and crosses his arms in an effort to stop them from tugging his hair out. (He’s only 22 years old. It’s really far too early to begin stressing himself into premature baldness.)

“You said you had the whole evening free.” Seungcheol says softly, figuring he has nothing to lose at this point.

“ _Yeah_ —and that’s why Bumzu is coming over.” Jihoon counters sharply, before tilting his head. “Don’t you have—I dunno—other things to do, _leader_?”

There is no trace of sarcasm in his voice, but Seungcheol knows it's there just the same, and his eyes narrow at the challenge.

“ _No_. I made sure my schedule was clear so I could spend time with you.”

He and Soonyoung had carefully drafted a rehearsal schedule the night before, and today’s plan did not include whatever detour Jihoon had concocted—perhaps to avoid him?

“Well—as nice as that sounds. I’m kinda busy.” Jihoon says flatly.

"I wasn’t going to take up your whole evening." Seungcheol mumbles lamely, nearly rolling his eyes, but instead just looking somewhere in the region of Jihoon’s navel, in the hopes of seeming less pathetic.

Jihoon snorts. "You were and you know it. You’re clingy as hell and if I let you stay—we both know you wouldn’t have let me get anything done."

Seungcheol feels about two inches tall standing there, all of a sudden aware of how dumb this whole thing is. Though he doesn't regret it, he's beginning to see himself through Jihoon's eyes: an attractive nuisance that’s good for a fuck.

And maybe that’s just it. Seungcheol’s always known he’s been a bit clingy—a bit too eager. Tracking Jihoon down for no-strings-attached sex doesn’t exactly work in his defence.

Seungcheol nods, a little shakily.

He doesn’t argue, but decides not to press it any further this evening. He walks back to the dorms, cursing himself the rest of the way home for not saying something else.

It’s possible Jihoon needs a little space from the overwhelming  _themness_  of them. It’s equally possible Jihoon doesn’t want to keep this thing between them going, but can’t say so directly, and thinks _this_ is letting Seungcheol down easy.

* * *

 

Later that day, when Seungcheol’s dozing in his bunk, Jihoon calls him to ‘reschedule’.

“So, Bumzu just left. That took longer than I expected but I’m free now. Are you coming over?” Jihoon says dryly.

It’s another invitation, but Seungcheol’s defences are on high alert. He’s furious that Jihoon manages to sound so—so— _sarcastic_ —while inviting him over for _sex_!

“No.” Seungcheol says. He’s not sure what he’s doing. He didn’t plan this. “It’s late. I’m already in bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jihoon has gone quiet in that way that means he’s unpleasantly surprised.

“O—kay.” Jihoon drawls. “Are you—“ He begins to add as Seungcheol hangs up.

He aches sharp and sullen, somewhere in his chest, all too aware of the conflicting mix of guilt and rejected hurt.

This sucks.

But at least he’s not embarrassing himself anymore, throwing pebbles at the metaphorical window.

* * *

 

It’s funny how the minute he stops trying to get Jihoon alone, all the opportunities present themselves. It’s like only managing to find your car keys once you’ve given up hope ever driving again.

Suddenly the rest of the group is going on out for the day, or visiting family or so absorbed with their routines they are leaving them plenty of time alone together. And they would be the perfect opportunities if Seungcheol still wasn’t so absurdly butt hurt over it all.

Here he has Jihoon, laid out like an especially delectable DD Chicken platter and instead of lining up, Seungcheol’s doing ridiculous things like, hitting the gym and going shopping, and even going to the pet shop to pet all the dogs to make himself feel better.

He’s not even pretending it’s coincidental, but Jihoon doesn’t call him up on it. He just gives Seungcheol that quiet, confused look and then barricades himself up in his studio.

Two weeks pass and they’re still dancing around their mutual attraction with the skill of Prima Donnas in the Ballet.

The one time Jihoon comes out of his shell and invites him out to the cinema, Seungcheol plays it safe (spiteful) by inviting Wonwoo and Vernon along too. He spends the entire 95 minutes of the movie stuffing popcorn in his mouth whilst ignoring the glare Jihoon’s burning into his cheek.

If he’s as frustrated as Seungcheol about this, he hasn’t said anything. Still so annoyingly detached.

And Seungcheol thinks, if Jihoon wants to continue playing detached—fuck—he can be detached right back.

* * *

 

Seungcheol stirs in the middle of night, the quiet padding of footsteps and hushed sound of fabric sliding to the floor making him blink awake.

When he turns his head, Jihoon is looking at him, his gaze level, the shadows making his face seem gaunt and sharp. “Sorry—didn’t mean to wake you up. I was trying to be quiet.”

Seungcheol’s gaze drifts over to his alarm clock. “It’s late Jihoon—you need to get more sleep than this. Tour starts next week.”

“I know, I just—“ He shrugs, “Practicing.”

Seungcheol tries on a faint smile. “Ahh—your _solo_. It’s going to leave us all shaken—I can feel it.”

Jihoon nods. He offers his own smile in return, tit for tat. “If I ever suggest something like that again—please talk me out of it. I could do without adding more pressure to my life.”

Seungcheol laughs, turning to face the wall, back to the light “I’ll try—but I can’t make any promises. It’s not like what **I** say carries much weight with you anyway. You’ll just do whatever you want in the end.” He says through a yawn. Then cringes.

There’s a whole heap of hidden meaning behind that. He mostly meant it as a light joke, but the silence in the room is _deafening_. The stillness seems to stretch an eternity although Seungcheol knows in actuality it’s only a few seconds.

He can hear Jihoon’s quiet intake of breath before he speaks. “Cheol?”

He wants to say something, he really does. Because he's been thinking up some really good ways to start this conversation, with a few choice words about Jihoon being tsundere as fuck and his failure to communicate. He'd thought they were past that. He'd thought they were past the _worst_ of that anyway. Only whatever they have to say to each other, probably shouldn’t be done at—2.15 am.

It’s probably for the best that he feigns sleep now. _Yeah_. Zzzzzzz.

When Seungcheol doesn’t answer, Jihoon turns off the light and there's nothing but the rustle of sheets from the other side of the room as he settles in, a slow exhale that could mean a hundred things.

Seungcheol doesn't think they're fighting - no, this isn't like a fight. Seungcheol understands fighting with Jihoon. Where you have a difference of opinion, or you insult someone, say the wrong thing. Or where you've been friends for so long that some days you're just sick of each other, and you poke at the vulnerable places, just because you know how. That whole moment when you brush up against someone else, sharp edges first.

This isn’t fighting because there’s not much else to say, really.

He thinks that actually fighting with Jihoon would be easier than this, probably. 

* * *

 

When the World tour starts, it’s pretty much go, go, go.

It’s satisfying to see something you’ve worked so hard on for months take life on stage, endless rehearsals and practice becoming instinct and muscle memory.

It’s their third and final day of their Seoul Diamond Edge concert at the Jamsil Auxiliary Stadium and Seungcheol’s grateful his freshly dyed red hair has stopped streaking down his face every time he sweats.

Seungcheol and a few others watch from the side as DK and Seungkwan finished their performance of ‘Say Yes’, and Jihoon takes the stage for his solo.

The lights dim…..             

Soonyoung talks at him, inexplicably, throughout Jihoon’s performance, pointing out where he would have done things ‘a little differently’. Seungcheol tries to nod and makes appropriate listening noises, but really—he’s intently focused on Jihoon.

Jihoon’s solo could probably be described as beautiful, ethereal, devastating as he moves fluidly from one pose to another, restless and captivating and bright, like the dangerous centre of a flame.

They’ve styled him beautifully, hair blonde and wavy over his brow with smudged dark eye make-up—it’s a far call from the pink coconut bob that once lent him innocence. And _fuck_ —there’s nothing innocent about him anymore.

His shirt is a fraction too loose, the collar a deep v-cut low to expose the angles of his collar and the divot of his throat, the same creamy milk as the rest of him.

He looks a little tired and sweaty by the end of it but,  _damn_ , Seungcheol can’t get over how awesome his routine was, how breath-taking he _is_.

There’s applause, a lot of it, all of it very well-deserved. The entire stadium is abuzz, and Seungcheol doesn't have to listen hard to know the name on everyone's lips is “Woozi.”

* * *

 

There is a lengthy intermission between their performance of ‘Don’t Wanna Cry’ and their Encore, where a pre-recorded VCR message to Carats is scheduled to play.

Seungcheol’s standing near the stage entrance, at the bottom of the platform, watching the organised chaos of the next set take shape. Above his head, riggers navigate dimly lit catwalks, hauling weights and cameras into place on a series of pulleys and ropes.

He has to admit to himself that he’s wasting time, lingering backstage like a teenaged boy hanging around his crush’s locker in hopes of being noticed.

“Hyung.” Jihoon’s voice carries easily over the empty space and Seungcheol turns to face him.

Seungcheol attempts what he hopes is a casual smile, but he’s sure it succeeds in looking most like a hunter sighting a deer.

Jihoon unclips the mic from his shirt as he approaches him, stride negligent, then shoves the mic in his pocket as he comes to stand in front of Seungcheol.

They’re silent for a long moment, watching each other – not the way they sometimes did, playfully sizing each other up – just Jihoon waiting for Seungcheol's decision, and Seungcheol, trying to make one.

“So…” Jihoon drawls, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. _Expectant_.

“Do, do you… need something?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

The slump of resignation in Jihoon's shoulders is barely noticeable, but Seungcheol is accustomed to watching him too closely. Jihoon stands there looking at him—at first blankly, and then with a flush of colour in his cheeks. “What did you think? Of my solo? Did you like it?” he asks all at once.

Seungcheol swallows. “Yeah….. _yeah_. The fans were going— _wild_.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow knowingly, his brow furrowing as he crowds forward into Seungcheol's space “I didn’t ask what the fans thought—I’m asking _you_ what _you_ thought.”

He swallows again—when did his throat get so dry? “I thought it was awesome. Really awesome. Great work.”

Jihoon studies his face, gives him a concerned look, all creased eyebrows and downturned lips. “What’s up?”

Seungcheol glances at his watch. “They’re about to show the last VCR, I was just going to watch the reaction from here.”

Jihoon sighs and shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant Seungcheol and you know it.”

Seungcheol has to replay the last few seconds, his hands twitch restlessly at his sides. “I don’t understand.”

Jihoon suddenly breaks away. Takes Seungcheol's hand and pulls him off the side of the stage, past the stage manager and some crew preparing for the next set.

Seungcheol's heart, nearly calm a moment ago, kicks up in protest. He was so sure Jihoon would follow his usual habits and refuse to talk about this. He was maybe even _banking_ on Jihoon's customary caginess to avoid it all together, but the press of fingers around his wrist tells him Jihoon means business.

There's a fire exit door in the corner, and Jihoon barrels right through it, eyes darting around like he doesn't know what he's looking for but he'll know it when he sees it. They move down dimly hallways at random, passing nobody and nothing but a pile of locked rooms, until Jihoon finds a door that opens under his hands.

He drags Seungcheol inside, and it's a huge walk-in storage room, as private as they’re likely to get. There’s stage equipment stacked high against three of the four walls, with metal shelves spaced along the other one. And it’s dark, very dark. The neon red of the exit sign doesn’t do much to illuminate the room. His heavy breathing seems louder amidst the blackness.

The door clicks closed, and before Seungcheol has had time to think Jihoon  _throws_  himself at him, growling and pushing him roughly into the wall.  

Seungcheol lets out a surprised laugh. “Jihoon, what the—”

“Shut up.” Jihoon snaps, cupping his cheek and kissing him roughly, biting at his lower lip.

The sudden transition is jarring, but Seungcheol recovers fast and puts on his best smile even as Jihoon slips his tongue against his.

Suddenly he's reaching for Jihoon, grabbing him by the shirt front and tugging him even closer. Taking control of the kiss and turning it into something greedy and hard and filthy. Staking claim to Jihoon's mouth even though he's not the initiator.

When they part, it's a reluctant retreat. Jihoon lets go, eases back so he's not crowding too close, his hands fall away from Seungcheol’s neck to rest on his forearms.

“Sorry, I just—really needed to do that.” He says breathless and happy.

Seungcheol grins. “Anytime.”

 A cryptic expression floods Jihoon’s face. A strange mix of piercing focus and cautious hesitation. “You’re not off the hook Cheol. I’ll ask you again—what’s up?” he says, a blush on his cheeks but determination renewed.

Seungcheol offers a shrug. “Nothing.”

Jihoon sighs.  “You’ve been acting weird.”

“I have?”

 “You’ve been avoiding me and sulking, that much I know.” Jihoon says, sarcastically, though his dimples ruin the attempt at chastisement.

“I _have_.” he doesn't bother to make it a question now he knows he hasn't been so good at hiding his feelings after all. “Sorry, I was just—trying to give you space. It looked like you wanted it.”

In the dark, their hands brush. Jihoon holds on, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t want space.”

Seungcheol feels something loosen in his chest, between his rib cage and his spine. It’s almost painful, like an old knot prising itself apart.

“You sure about that?” He hates himself, because his voice sounds small and lonely.

Jihoon sighs, pushing Seungcheol’s shoulder until he is forced to look up again, “Oh god, Cheol. You’re so soft sometimes. No—not soft. _Stupid_. You think people won’t notice if we spend every spare minute together? I’m just trying to play it safe for both our sakes and with everything that’s going on—I’ve just had a lot on my mind. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to avoid you!”

Seungcheol simply raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t think his determination is entirely unfounded. “Can’t deny that every time I’ve tried to get you alone— _something_ comes up,” he offers with shrug. “Seems like you make a lot of excuses not be near me.”

Jihoon looks at him, frustration and apology fit together uncomfortably in his expression.  “ _I’m_ the one making excuses? You’re the--” He pauses at that, and laughs.

Seungcheol loves Jihoon’s laugh; his joyful face makes him look so very young.

“I’d appreciate knowing what exactly is so funny,” Seungcheol huffs, face hot, squirming a little under Jihoon’s amused stare.

“ _You_ —getting all emo over _me_. It feels awesome.” Jihoon says with dry affection.

“Wow. Thanks. Enjoy the power trip.” Seungcheol says, his voice calm, even though his heart is pounding and he feels giddy with anticipation.

Jihoon looks at him like he's the biggest idiot in the world and rolls his eyes at last, “Would you shut up.” He says dryly. “I’ve just spent the last month thinking you were trying to finish things with me, so it’s nice to know you were just being overly dramatic and just sulking instead. Feels nice that I can have the same effect on you as you do on me. You don’t know what it’s like thinking about one person all day long.”

Seungcheol is the one who laughs at that, sliding his hands up to cup Jihoon's face, thumb sketching the edge of his lips. “Yes, I do.” he manages before they're kissing again, Jihoon's mouth warm and perfect, meeting him with equal force every step of the way.

And he does.

He's been in love with Jihoon almost as long as he can remember. He's had him on a pedestal since they were trainees together, and he honestly doesn't know when simple friendship took a turn towards something a whole lot more complicated. It happened so gradually he couldn't pin down a particular moment if he tried. Even now he's not entirely sure if it happened before they debuted or if it's something he worked out during those painful months Jihoon shut himself off.

He supposes it hardly matters anymore. They’re both here now.

* * *

 

Seungcheol knows getting hot and heavy backstage is a stupid risk and he feels responsible for that, but Jihoon's mouth is warm and pliant, opening easily under his probing tongue, and Seungcheol takes advantage of the privacy to make up for the last few weeks of not being able to do this.

He can’t help himself.

It’s warm and dark in the storage room, the shadows inviting, and he wants to kiss that mouth, the edges of Jihoon's smile, worry his teeth against Jihoon's skin just to hear him moan.

He makes sure the door is locked, before crowding Jihoon neatly into the corner and kissing him.

“Fuck—Cheol, I can’t believe you thought I didn’t want this. The last few months have been torture.” Jihoon says, low and rough, his voice sounding like he should be in the bedroom, and God, Seungcheol wants to get him there as quickly as possible. Given how hard they both are, pressed into the heat of one another, it won't take long at all to get them all the way. It's about damn time, Seungcheol thinks.

Seungcheol means for them to hold off until later, but then Jihoon's got a hand on the front of Seungcheol’s slacks, and he's palming him greedily, tugging at the button with his other hand. It's fucking hot, having Jihoon on him like this, nothing fragile about him.

It gives Seungcheol the perfect excuse to grab two handfuls of Jihoon’s ass, and Jihoon gets one knee between Seungcheol's brickhouse thighs, rocking viciously up against Seungcheol’s hard-on, and that's it, all bets are off.

“Shit, Jihoonie,” he breathes.

Seungcheol kicks off the floor, hoisting Jihoon clear off the ground, and his legs wrap around Seungcheol's waist like an octopus.

It's so hot, Jihoon's back arching, hands scrambling for a hold on Seungcheol's shoulders, and Seungcheol can almost fucking come from just this, grinding his hips in a hard rut against Jihoon’s, not caring they're going to look several shades of suspicious when they finish.

Jihoon grabs the collar of Seungcheol’s jacket with a tight fist, then shoves his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, pulling his mouth to Jihoon's in the messiest excuse for a kiss Seungcheol has ever been involved in.

He doesn't need an invitation to close the gap and suck hard on Jihoon's bare throat, making him moan as the blood wells to the surface, and this is the only kind of bruise Seungcheol wants to see on Jihoon's skin. Ever.

Jihoon doesn't seem to care any more than Seungcheol about maintaining a sense of dignity. He grabs the metal edge of a shelf and uses it to lever himself back to meet Seungcheol, his voice spilling out between Seungcheol’s own panted obscenities.

“Fuck, fuck, come on, Cheol, need you. Fuck me!” Jihoon gasps, digging into Seungcheol’s back with the heel of his shoe, and Seungcheol doesn't need a clearer message than that, but the angle's awkward and he can't quite manage the leverage, so he drops to his knees, taking Jihoon down with him and laying him out on the floor as if it's satin sheets.

"This how you want it, Jihoonie?" Seungcheol groans, dropping a line of stinging bites along the column of Jihoon's throat as he works at the fly of Jihoon's pants.

" _Yes_ ," Jihoon breathes, bucking against Seungcheol's hands.

Seungcheol succeeds somehow at working Jihoon’s pants and boxers down his hips and then sets two fingers against Jihoon's mouth. Jihoon parts his lips and sucks on them, slicking them with his tongue and humming an eager sound, because he knows where those fingers are going.

Seungcheol tilts Jihoon's head up after that, stares into his eyes as he uses his spit-slick fingers to work Jihoon open. Jihoon tries to hold his gaze, but his eyes drift shut, fractured moans leaking from his throat as Seungcheol teases him, spreads him, fucks him open on one, then two, then three fingers.

“So tight Jihoonie. I know nobody else has been fucking you cause you’re nice and tight for me—almost as tight as the first time.” Seungcheol whispers.

When Seungcheol pulls his fingers out, Jihoon is trembling, chest heaving as he breathes, though he has no trouble wrapping his legs around Seungcheol’s waist and squeezing him with unforgiving force. “Cheol—get your dick in me now!”

There's the sound of a zipper, the sound of Seungcheol spitting into his palm, “Say please.”

“Dammit Cheol, seriously? Now’s not the time!”

“But I love hearing it. You always beg for my cock so prettily.” Seungcheol teases. 

He is not, however, cruel; nor is he a man of infinite patience – and he’s rather addicted to the soft, breathy sounds that Jihoon makes when he fills him up in a slow, steady thrust.

“Fuck, yes – finally...” Jihoon breathes, as if Seungcheol has been torturing him for _hours_ ; dragging Seungcheol into a kiss and rolling with the slide of his hips. “That’s  _perfect_. Ahh—so big Cheollie. Love your dick!”

The desperation goes out of them both as Seungcheol bottoms out and Jihoon flushes beautifully all across his body, from the thighs spread welcomingly around Seungcheol, to the tips of his ears.

Seungcheol moves slowly at first, but steadily, with a force encouraged by the clutch of Jihoon’s hand on his ass, but their kisses become languid and slippery.

“Fuck—Jihoonie. Your ass feels like a hot pocket around my dick.”

Jihoon blinks and for a moment looks like he can't decide whether to laugh or agree. “You really need to work on your sex talk—it’s awful.” He giggles.

“But it _does_.” Seungcheol grins, snapping his hips in sharply, thick cock head brushing over that sensitive spot inside Jihoon that makes him throw his back and..

“ _Ahhnnngg_ — _Cheollie_!”

Despite Jihoon’s determination not to beg, it’s not long before he’s tangling his hand in Seungcheol’s jacket and babbling, “Please, please, please, Seungcheol – fuck me – please, move, fuck me please” with a puddle of pearly fluid in the hollow of his stomach.

They find a rhythm, knees and hands and cocks all trying to get in on the friction until Jihoon's head is bouncing off the floor and the room fills with the sound of slapping flesh and moans.

Seungcheol gets his hand around Jihoon’s cock and strokes slowly, until Jihoon is rocking into it, eyes nearly closed, mouth wide and gasping, clutching tight around him. Seungcheol is almost sure there's blood on his throat from where Jihoon bites him as he comes, marking him like he fucking  _owns_  him, and Seungcheol is fine with that.

“God-fucking-damn, you—you're fucking—Jesus Christ, Hoonie, you're tight—fuck, fuck, fuck!” Seungcheol rambles, not caring if he's making sense or not, only caring Jihoon's underneath him, licking his throat like a damn cat, hot and wet, his hands on Seungcheol’s ass and his back and tugging at his hair, even though Seungcheol is positive that's too many hands, and maybe Jihoon _is_ some kind of fucking octopus, but it's all good, so hot and so perfect Seungcheol’s whole body's shaking with the need to come.

“You’re beautiful,” Seungcheol tells him, helpless now that he’s chasing his orgasm deep into the heat of Jihoon’s body, his mouth gone away from him as he watches Jihoon rub fingers through the mess of come on his chest and stomach. “You’re so fucking gorgeous – you make me so happy.”

He hopes he’s not imagining it, but Jihoon’s face seems fond, gentle, as he brings his hand up, smearing come on Seungcheol’s chin as he slips his fingers past Seungcheol’s lips, bringing the taste of himself to Seungcheol’s tongue.

Seungcheol is a breath, no, a heartbeat away from coming his brains out there on the floor of a maintenance room in the Jamsil Auxiliary Stadium with Jihoon already spent beneath him, and when it happens, he swears he can taste blood in his mouth from a bitten lip, and Jihoon's petting him feebly like Seungcheol has fucked all the life out of him, and maybe he has.

Seungcheol’s orgasm feels endless, like he’s going to turn inside out, like it’s born from somewhere deep inside his bones. He drops forward as it’s wrung out of him, and Jihoon’s hand is immediately on the back of his neck, fingertips gentle against the short fuzz of hair at his nape until Seungcheol can pull himself out and move over so that he isn’t crushing Jihoon.

…… “Good enough?” Seungcheol asks, when they’re lying in the immediate aftermath, still panting for the same hot storage room air.

Jihoon, collapsed on his side facing him, raises a limp hand. It’s an indeterminate gesture. Maybe it means:  _look, I have no muscle control left, that was excellent._  Maybe it means:  _shut your mouth._  Maybe both.

It occurs to Seungcheol then that there's a calm, recorded voice speaking over the constant noise of fan cheering from the stadium, informing them the intermission is coming to an end, and suddenly the desire to lie there and fall asleep is tempered by the need to finish their stage and get them back to the dorms as quickly as possible.

They unstick themselves from each other and the patterned carpet that Jihoon's eyeing suspiciously as if it's hiding a multitude of sins just like theirs.

He pulls Jihoon up, up off the ground and back against the wall, moves in close and tight against him, kissing the wet of his mouth.

Seungcheol can taste himself there in Jihoon's kisses, smells his own sweat and musk on Jihoon's face. It's unsettling and unbelievably sexy, and Seungcheol can't get close enough to Jihoon to do justice to what he's feeling, the overwhelming need to kiss him over and over, breathless, senseless, to tell him things he's never wanted to tell anyone. Seungcheol has never been so in love before.

“Me too,” Jihoon's saying, “me too,” and Seungcheol isn't sure how they've gone from hot for each other to this strangely focused intimacy, breathing the same air, not wanting to let go or even move further away than this.

His mobile buzzes in his pocket, reality sounding its alarm, but they stay there, against each other, hearts drumming, holding on to whatever this is.

“We should—” Jihoon murmurs, not meaning it at all, but one of them has to say it.

Seungcheol nods, but keeps kissing Jihoon lightly. He lets out a sigh against Jihoon's lips. “I know, I know. I've just don’t know when we’ll get a chance to do this again. It’s torture having to look at you and not getting to touch.”

Jihoon's head tips back against the wall with a groan. “Fuck, me too.” He looks Seungcheol in the eye and it occurs to Seungcheol how very screwed they both are. They've become necessary to one another.

“C’mon—we better show our faces.” Seungcheol whispers, letting his hands linger on Jihoon’s skin as they reluctantly start to put themselves back together.

* * *

 

When they step out of the room, they still look like they've been humping in the janitors closer, but the hallway's empty of anyone who might have overheard a thing or seen them disappear inside.

They’re walking side by side down the narrow corridor, back towards the stage—when they see Soonyoung, Jisoo, and DK running towards them with several members of their staff in tow.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” Seungcheol says as they slow up in front of them.

Jisoo is staring straight at him, face frozen. Rigid in an expression that screams 'oh shit'. Dokyeom is red in the face, right up to his ears and Soonyoung’s got a hand to his forehead like he's got a concussion or a goddamn vision.

“What’s uhh—wrong?”

Jisoo winces and then reaches over, slipping a hand into Jihoon’s jacket pocket and pulling out his microphone.

The light is _on_.

The microphone is still transmitting.

Seungcheol can hear the dry rasp of Jisoo’s palm echo in his earpiece.

Seungcheol stares. He sees it hit Jihoon in the same instant, eyes widening in revelation.

After a moment, he remembers to breathe.

Seungcheol laughs, a jagged, ruptured sound that doesn't even try to contain the edge of hysteria. _Oh—fuck._

“You guys—“ Jisoo breathes, “What the hell where you _thinking_?”

* * *

 

It's like a house of cards, all coming down, so many things making sense all at once, so many humiliating fucked up things.

Jihoon looks like he's trying to find words, but there just aren't any. There are clearly no words to explain what's happening in his head right now. Seungcheol barely has words himself, and the ones he does have are horribly inadequate.

This is the worst-case scenario unfolding in front of them. A conversation they never had, coming together in pieces - expressions, and reactions, and emotions, and it's almost more painful for its lack of words.

It was bound to happen eventually. Too many chances taken, too many risks and now—they’ve been caught.

It's an unfortunate way to learn in practice what Seungcheol has long-known theoretically: namely, that nothing quashes a post-orgasmic glow faster than finding out the rest of the band, the managers, the production crew and _possibly_ an entire stadium full of fans, heard him fuck Jihoon in a closet.

And they must have heard—a lot, judging by the looks on their faces.

“Jesus—you guys.” Jisoo gasps, shock etched on his features; Dokyeom’s grimace would be comical in other circumstances, and Soonyoung, when he finally gets around to looking at him, is grinning.

Traitor.

(Except, not really, because it’s not his fault they chose to have very loud sex, but. Still.)

Eventually—awkwardly—Seungcheol breaks from the appalled stare and faces forward.

“Did the fans—“ Seungcheol trails off, gesturing to the mic.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “No. No—the production team shut the mics off when we got off stage. The fans didn’t hear anything.”

Jihoon and him share a sigh of relief.

“Can’t say the same for the entire production team though.” Jisoo adds.

“And—uhm— _us_.” Dokyeom adds with nervous laughter.

Jihoon gives him a look, one that Seungcheol's pretty sure is echoed in his own eyes.

They’re in deep, deep shit.

 _No,_ Seungcheol amends in the privacy of his own mind. _He’s_ in deep, deep shit. He’s not going to let Jihoon shoulder any of the fall out.

An announcement rings through the staging area, and they’re due back. He tucks his mic pack and ear piece back in where it belongs. Jihoon appears to be doing the same.

He’s considering kissing Jihoon one last time, knowing full-well it will only make the situation worse, but he forces himself to step away, wiping his hands on his pants because, really, there's nothing else he can do.

“We still have the encore segment to perform and the outro. Let’s just—get this over with.” he says, trying to get his emotions under control. His brain shuts down instead, surrounding him with an emptiness born of necessity, and he moves towards the stage in jerking, mechanical steps.

* * *

 

The last few minutes on stage go by in a blur.

Usually the outro’s Seungcheol’s favourite part of a performance, but he can’t focus. Can’t enjoy a single moment. He keeps turning to look at Jihoon when he knows he probably shouldn’t. He should _probably_ be trying to play this down.

God damnit, but he knows what Jihoon  _tastes_  like, can still see the mark he left so deliberately on that long stretch of throat, and Jihoon won’t look at him. He chews his lip in helpless frustration and stares at everything and nothing, as they finish the ending-ment and celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday on stage with their fans.

Nothing to do but wait and see if there's anything to be salvaged.

Seungcheol waves at the audience and desperately hopes there is.

* * *

 

Jihoon doesn’t make contact with him as they walk off the stage, and bypasses the changing room completely. Seungcheol wishes he had have thought of that cause the minute he steps through the doors the rest of the band are surrounding him and…

“Well, well, well.” Jeonghan snickers. “How is Jihoon still _walking_ after that!”

“How long has this being going on for?” Jisoo gasps.

“Look—I just need to know—did you ever do it on my bunk?” Mingyu asks— _inappropriately_.

“You guys were so loud. _So—very—loud_.” Jun adds.

“And on my birthday too!!” Wonwoo chimes in.

“I knew it.” Seungkwan dismisses.

“No, you didn’t! Don’t lie!” Vernon counters.

“Please! It was so obvious!”

“When are we going to eat? I’m starving.” Chan whines.

“How did this start?” Minghao asks.

“So, do you guys like—take turns? How do you decide— _yanno_.” DK questions.

 _“Your ass feels like a hot pocket around my dick.”_ Vernon quotes. “How would you even know that comparison hyung?!”

“Hyung, what _exactly_ had you been doing that made Jihoon go ‘Ahh _hynngg—Cheollie!.”_ Mingyu parrots back in a scarily close approximation of Jihoon’s sex moan.

Seungcheol tries not to die. Although—reverse that, no, he definitely tries to die. Or sink into the floor. Or evaporate. Or spontaneously combust. Or just be anywhere, literally anywhere, but here, where everyone is  _grinning_  at him and casually asking about his sex life.

There’s a sharp knock on the door and a member of staff pokes their head in.

“Seungcheol—the CEO wants a word with you.”

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches, hard, and he gets that feeling where he wants to crawl out of his own skin and he needs to get  _out_.

He tugs on a jacket and shoves his phone in his pocket.

* * *

 

He’s bundled onto a car and escorted back to Pledis HQ where they spend the evening waiting in a separate room to Jihoon, answering questions.

Of course, Seungcheol doesn't respond to the majority of them considering they're all essentially variations on “You guys were having sex, weren’t you?” to which the answer is painfully obvious. He's still got dried semen on his pants, teeth marks on his neck, and about a room full witnesses who got more than an earful of him and Jihoon fucking.

It's not as if Seungcheol's got plausible deniability on his side.

Seungcheol reveals only what's absolutely necessary and nothing that could be considered an admission of guilt, and he's fairly certain Jihoon is refusing to say anything because every time the CEO steps out of the room, he seems more pissed off.

Seungcheol's careful to keep the grin off his face.

All things considered, he knows he's got nothing to be smiling about. He's effectively destroyed his career and bought a one-way ticket out of the band, but he thinks of Jihoon. His hands, his mouth, the way he still makes Seungcheol breathless with want, even after all these years.

Sometimes they get on each other’s nerves, but Seungcheol's never had a real moment of regret where Jihoon is concerned, and he thinks that says a lot about them. They say what they need to say—not often, but enough that it _means_ something. There's never been anything they couldn't deal with together.

* * *

 

It's near midnight when the CEO calls him into his office.

Seungcheol's only had positive dealings with the man, although he doubts that will help him here and now. The CEO motions for Seungcheol to takes a seat across from him, his expression grim.

“You and Jihoon have put me in an untenable position, Seungcheol.”

“I’m sorry sir.” He's fully-prepared to take the brunt of whatever punishment is meted out if it will help Jihoon's position. “But you should know—it was completely my fault. I take full responsibility.”

The CEO narrows his eyes. “Of course you would say that. Is that how you and Jihoon are going to play it? Because I have no reservations about punishing the both of you if it comes to it.”

Seungcheol blinks in confusion. “What? _No_ —It’s not Jihoon’s fault at all. Didn’t you hear what I said? It was all me. I’m the leader—I took control. Jihoon has done nothing wrong.”

There's a vein pulsing in the CEO’s forehead. Seungcheol's fairly sure it's a sign of an impending aneurysm, but at this point, there's not much he can do about it without backing down, and he has no intention of doing that.

“You’re the leader Seungcheol. I expect you to set an example—to show a little restraint.”

“Yeah. I know. And I’ve failed. But—can you blame me for having needs? You don’t have a ban on dating, but when do any of us get the time for that? We’ve had a pretty full schedule since we debuted. And when you’re with somebody morning, noon and night for _years_ , working together, eating together, sharing _space_ and _living_ together—things _happen_. Are you really surprised some of us would start to reach out to one another, try to find something for ourselves in the middle of it all?”

Seungcheol knows his face is flushed, but he doesn't care. None of this has turned out the way he thought, and the best part of it, the only part that doesn't hurt, is about to be taken away from him by people who don't have the slightest idea how he feels. It’s sickening.

“Hang this around my neck. Fine. I don’t care. But I’m not fucking up his life.”

To his credit, the CEO’s face has gone white. He nods slowly, like he expected as much. “Yes, yes. It seems you’ve both planned this well, if it was any other situation—I probably would have applauded how well rehearsed you both are.” The man says, waving him off as he stands and exits the room. Leaving a confused Seungcheol in his wake.

* * *

 

It's a couple of hours later when their manager reappears. “Seungcheol.”

The familiar cadence of the word makes Seungcheol snap to attention “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you there.” Seungcheol rises to his feet.

The manager waves him down and takes a seat.

“That's understandable,” The manager says. “I imagine you've got other things on your mind. You've had a long night.”

Given the wide grin on the man's face, Seungcheol allows himself a moment to believe everything's going to be alright.

“Well, I must say—I’m impressed with the amount of thought you’ve both put into this. It's certainly got their attention.”

“Sir?”

The manager laughs and shakes his head. “Jihoon appears quiet—but he’s a firecracker, isn’t he.”

The sentence manages to derail all of Seungcheol’s thoughts.  _His_  Jihoon?  _Firecracker?_  “I--guess,” Seungcheol says.

“I’ve been in the business for some time Seungcheol. As these things go, there's a fairly predictable pattern. Given you're older and higher ranking, we’d enlist you to complete your military service early.”

Seungcheol swallows hard as he realizes the implications. “Okay—”

The manager keeps going. “In most cases, Jihoon will sign a statement saying it was a one-off, not his idea in the first place, and swears it will never happen again and we’d keep you separated during the rest of the tour. You’d be shipped off to start your service after your tour obligations end, so as not to allow a repeat of the situation, then you come back two years later and life goes on much as it did before.”

Seungcheol nods shakily. He wants to be shipped off for military duty right now just about as badly as he wants something sharp to stab him in the eye.

But, if that's what it takes to protect Jihoon from getting kicked out or in trouble, he'll do it. He'll do whatever it takes. He hates the thought of enlisting early, of not seeing or touching Jihoon again, at least for a very long time, but ... suddenly, Seungcheol is aware the manager’s kept right on speaking.

“—wouldn't do it. Outright refused, and then—”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Seungcheol interrupts. “Could you repeat that?”

“I was saying—It was a very risky move you both pulled. Jihoon refusing to back down. Refusing to let them hang you out to dry. There’s no saying the CEO won’t punish both of you—although I doubt he will. That’s going to raise a few eyebrows and he’ll have a lot more on his plate to deal with when people start asking why two members of leader line have been suspended.”

Seungcheol takes a moment to process what the manager’s told him.

Jihoon could have taken the easy road, played naïve, claimed coercion, and let Seungcheol take the fall. Seungcheol would've even been okay with that, which is something he knows he'll have to examine later, when he's not in the middle of what could potentially become a nationwide incident.

The manager looks at Seungcheol carefully. “I know you and Jihoon have known each other the longest—I know there is history there, and—obviously you are closer than we expected—“

Seungcheol can't help the flush that stains his cheeks. The manager’s smile is not unkind, and Seungcheol reminds himself not everyone in Korea thinks or feels the same way.

 “But what Jihoon threatening to do—to stop performing—threatening to stop producing if either one of you gets punished for this is against the contract you signed when you joined the agency. It’s a very risky move.”

Seungcheol’s eyes saucer, “He shouldn't—”

“But he is, Seungcheol.” The managers voice is oddly gentle. “And it's my feeling, Jihoon's going to get what he wants, which seems to include you.”

Seungcheol wonders if his face is going to be a permanent shade of red when this is all over. He supposes he can live with that if it means staying within easy reach of Jihoon.

“They're not just going to let us walk away and pretend nothing happened,” Seungcheol says. He’s got his share of delusions, but that isn’t one of them. He's been in the business long enough to know that agencies hold grudges.

“Quite. And I think the CEO was prepared to make an example out of both of you—that was until the rest of the band barged in and threatened to stop performing in mass protest if either one of you was punished.”

Seungcheol lets the look of utter befuddlement reign, because he's got no idea what to do with this. “They did?”

The manager nods.

“What happens now?” Seungcheol asks, almost afraid of the answer.

“The only people privy to this incident can't afford to discard talent and resourcefulness like yours and Jihoon's. But whatever it is you’re both doing—you need to keep it private from now on.”

The manager gets up to leave, extending a hand. “You're the leader Seungcheol. Think about your next move carefully. And for God's sake, if you're _going_ to keep this up, _don't do it backstage with your mics on_. You have a dorm room and a studio for that.”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, it turns out, the universe is on your side.

Seungcheol is allowed to leave for the dorms and victory feels a lot like exhaustion, and he's still half-afraid he's never going to see Jihoon again.

It's not as if they've ever talked about it: what they are to each other, what they're doing. Seungcheol's not naive enough to think sweaty promises and declarations of love in the middle of sex are any kind of guarantee, but he's pretty sure Jihoon feels it too, the connection between them. Considering Jihoon's just fucked over the CEO and almost his career for Seungcheol, he hopes he hasn't misjudged the situation.

Seungcheol hovers in the lobby, caught between wanting to get the hell out and not look back, and wanting to make sure Jihoon is okay and is still speaking to him. He's not sure what happens now. He's been released and Pledis essentially made the whole mess go away save for the part where they go back to their dorm and face the rest of the band.

What does someone do after he almost got shipped off for military duty?

Seungcheol supposes he should get some sleep. He's expected to report for rehearsals later today.

He gets a message on his phone informing him there is a car waiting outside to take him back to the dorm. When Seungcheol slides into the backseat, he’s shocked to find Jihoon sitting inside, seemingly waiting for him.

Seungcheol’s surprised Pledis is letting them share a car!

Then he realises it’s almost 2 in the morning and the agency probably didn’t want to wake up another driver just to drive two idols separately to the same location.

They sit in silence as the car pulls away from the building. Seungcheol’s hands at his sides, restraining himself from reaching over and wrapping Jihoon in a bear hug.

“Are you okay?” they ask at the same time, laughing when their answers—“yeah, I'm fine”—are in stereo too.

“You didn't have to—” Seungcheol starts, and Jihoon's already shaking his head.

“Yes, I did. I couldn't—”

“It wouldn't have mattered. I would've completed my military service and been back. You didn’t have to risk anything for me.”

When he turns his head, Jihoon is looking at him with awe and pride and something that makes Seungcheol's heart beat faster. “I know, Seungcheol. I couldn't let you do that.” They're sitting much closer to one another, and Seungcheol has no idea which of them moved.

“I can’t believe you threatened to stop working.” Seungcheol says, nudging Jihoon’s leg with his knee.

“It worked, didn't it?” Jihoon says, voice all fondness and unguarded affection, and Seungcheol wants nothing more than to reach across and pull him close, kiss him until last night feels like a bad dream.

Seungcheol's not entirely sure why it worked, but he's grateful nonetheless.

“I appreciate the risk you took—saying what you said. I know it mustn’t have been easy, so thank you and I’m sorry I put us in the position in the first place. But listen, whatever you decide next—it won’t change how I feel about you and we’ll always be friends.”

Jihoon laughs and to Seungcheol's ears it sounds a little incredulous.

“What are you talking about?” Jihoon says. He looks at Seungcheol for a long moment, and Seungcheol feels like he must have utterly no poker face at all.

“I’m just saying, things are going to be really awkward for a while—“ He has to say it. Has to and hates himself for it, but Jihoon shifts closer as if the words are a challenge.

“And?” He prompts.

“And—“ Seungcheol’s voice softens with ill-concealed emotion when he offers, “I understand if—you don’t want to keep seeing me. Maybe breaking this off will be easier for you, I dunno but I’ll accept whatever you want to do. Maybe I can’t have everything I want anymore, but I don’t want to lose you.” Seungcheol whispers.

He doesn't want it. The thought of ending this, after everything they've come through together, burns like an angry ember behind Seungcheol's ribs, and he can barely breathe around the force of denial in his chest.

"You won't," says Jihoon, confident reassurance in his voice. "I'm not breaking anything off.” he says, gently and places his hand on Seungcheol’s thigh. “At this point, I’m shocked you think I could. I meant what I said in that room Seungcheol. I’ve meant it for…a long time.”

“So, you still—want this? Even—after all that?” Seungcheol asks, trying to put into his voice that he is floored but sort of a little bit delighted.

“Definitely.” Jihoon says, taking hold of Seungcheol’s hand.

If they didn't realize it before, Seungcheol thinks it's damn clear now: neither of them is walking away.

* * *

 

In a secure office in the Pledis building, the CEO and the manager are shaking their heads.

“Christ,” The CEO says. “Those two have no sense of self-preservation. I’m still not convinced this is the best course of action. I feel like I need to be setting—an example at least. Dissuade the others from—whatever.”

The manager tuts reproachfully. “How would you have explained away two absences from the band? People will ask questions—get suspicious. The truth would have come out eventually and then the fall out would have been larger anyway. Besides, times are changing. People are more tolerant now, and they’re less tolerant of a man who tries to separate two young lovers because it doesn’t fit in with his business plans.”

The CEO grumbles agreement.

The manager laughs. “Come on. Surely you were young once? In love?”

“Not like that.”

“That kind of loyalty is something we don't see much anymore.”

“I'm not sure I've ever felt that way about someone. Not even my wife, and we've been married almost thirty years.”

The manager gives the screen a considering look. “Food for thought, isn't it?”

 

* * *

 

When they get back to the dorm, everyone is sleeping.

Everyone, that is, except for Soonyoung who apparently decided to camp out in front of the building and wait for the two of them to get back, and when he sees them he snorts as if he's inhaled one of his own lungs, and there's no talking to him for the next ten minutes while he wheezes, bent over against the wall, one hand pointing at them just in case anyone should fail to notice the absolute mess the two of them are.

They hustle him inside while he's still laughing like a sea lion, but it's impossible to be upset with him under the circumstances, and when Seungcheol catches a glimpse of them in the mirror, he starts laughing too. Once he starts, Jihoon succumbs within seconds until the three of them have tears running down their flushed faces.

“I assume everything is okay?” Soonyoung says once he gets himself under control.

“Yeah—we’re off the hook.” Seungcheol says as he toes off his shoes, stumbling a bit in his relief. “We just have to be more—discreet.”

Soonyoung runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll say—I don’t think any amount of therapy is going to make me forget the noises Jihoon makes when you’re— _showing him a good time._ They don’t call him VOBO for nothing.”

Jihoon gives him the middle finger instead of a retort because really, anyone listening in to that session probably knows  _somebody_  was making up for lost time.

He watches Jihoon pad down the hallway towards the bathroom, before he turns towards Soonyoung.

“Soonyoung, thank you.” He says, running a hand through his own dishevelled hair, “I can’t believe you guys—did that for us. But we really appreciate it.”

Soonyoung looks at him, all wide eyes and incredulity. “I can’t believe you’re surprised we would, Hyung. You would have done the same.”

Seungcheol quirks an amused brow at him, “Are you _thinking_ about having sex with a friend in a storage room with your mic on?”

“No. But I’d like to think I have options.” Soonyoung replies wryly, and they both laugh.

“That was close though.” Seungcheol whispers and half swallows his words. “Feels like we should have gotten in a lot more trouble for that, kinda still waiting for it to be honest.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s surreal. It’s almost as if—this whole thing is like a weird story and whoever is writing it really hates angst and simply refuses to end a story with angst.”

“Sure does.”

Seungcheol hears the shower start, and he's not one to pass up an opportunity to get Jihoon naked now that they understand each other. He peels off his sweaty shirt, ignoring Soonyoung’s “okay, that's my cue to leave and find my ear plugs,” but he can hear him giggling all the way down the hallway, and it's a good feeling to know he's happy for them too.

Seungcheol takes a calming breath before he follows Jihoon’s path to the bathroom. The door is unlocked, and he steps inside. The shower is running hot, mist flooding the room.

He strips down to skin, but stops short of pulling the shower curtain back.

“You waiting for an invitation?” Jihoon asks, a smile in his voice.

Seungcheol steps in behind him, curling his arms around Jihoon's bare chest, feeling the press of Jihoon's wet skin against his muscled contours. Seungcheol knows he holds on a little too tightly and a little too long, but Jihoon lets him.

It's not nearly enough, but it's a fucking great start.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I fill the request?


End file.
